


Tremulous

by Sintero



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional, Episode: s08e17 Goodbye Stranger, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Season/Series 08, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-20 23:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2447195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sintero/pseuds/Sintero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate ending for episode 8.17 “Goodbye Stranger,” whereupon Castiel ignores the angel tablet in favor of remaining in Lucifer’s Crypt to clean up his mess…namely, Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tremulous

 

There’s blood everywhere.

_Fuck, it hurts._

It’s flowing freely down his face in rivulets, the scent metallic and cloying. And above him, upraised fist trembling with barely restrained wrath, stands Castiel. The angel’s face is at war with itself. Fury, love, regret, and righteous indignation are all vying to settle on his tortured brow.

_Cas, this isn’t you. This isn’t you!_

The prayer hits home and a flash of horror crosses Castiel’s suddenly all too human eyes. A pregnant pause hangs in the space between them until Dean succumbs to his own weakness and allows his eyes to slide closed against the terror. After what seems to be an eternity, the angel falls to his knees and reaches a tremulous hand towards Dean’s masticated face. In an instant the pain is gone, but it’s the betrayal that hurts worse than any corporeal wound. Dean slowly wipes the tears from his face and hangs his head between his upraised knees, unable to meet Castiel’s eyes.

He hears the familiar slide of his angel’s trench coat and a heavy weight drops behind him.

And suddenly he’s enveloped in the dichotomous feel of warm sunshine and cool spring waters; shrouded with a heavy mantle of pain and loss, happiness and love that is overwhelming in its breadth, it it’s ancientness. A shuddering sigh whispers through his hair as Castiel settles behind him and the final puzzle piece falls into place. The angel’s embrace is staggering in its tenderness, a conflagration of enfolded limbs and the weight of Castiel’s head on Dean’s shoulder. A muffled and choking “I’m so sorry, Dean.” is barely audible in the weighted silence of Lucifer’s Crypt.

_God, Cas._

Lips ghost the nape of Dean’s neck in the lightest of kisses, lubricated by the tears of a being so massive, so primordial that the fabric of the world bends beneath the force of his will. Dean pushes deeper into the embrace and hesitantly turns so that Castiel’s lips lightly meet his own.

In that one moment, hope crashes in like the returning tide and Castiel is utterly powerless to resist its draw.

 

 

 


End file.
